


radio what’s new? radio, someone still loves you!

by ninchannie



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Blood and Gore, Burning Scars, But they're not husbands, Changkyun gender... something, Fire, Genderfuck, Housewife Changkyun, Murder Husbands, Murderer Minhyuk, Other, Partners in Crime, Pet Names, but he's a very very bad housewife, idk how else to tell u this but min is bad :3, serial killer minhyuk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:42:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29092941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninchannie/pseuds/ninchannie
Summary: The year is 1987 and all is well in rural South Dakota. All is well, except in one town, where mysterious disappearances are shrouded in rumour, one scarier than the other.Imagine a true crime documentary series from the early 90s. A monotonous voice ringing from the off, sepia tinged pictures of suburbia peace, blurry faces of serial killers haunting the viewers’ thoughts for hours, sometimes days after watching each episode.Now picture Minhyuk as the focus, the centre of frightening stories, along with his housewife, partner in law, lifetime companion Changkyun.Are you ready?
Relationships: Im Changkyun | I.M/Lee Minhyuk
Comments: 3
Kudos: 31





	radio what’s new? radio, someone still loves you!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [showmeurteef](https://archiveofourown.org/users/showmeurteef/gifts).



> I finally managed to finish it an eeee it’s something I never did before, lowkey strange but ahhh I hope you’ll like it Rae!!! Thank you for wanting me to write something for you??? omg?? <3<3<3
> 
> Warnings:  
> \- Listen, if you want morally good things, this fic is really not the right place  
> \- the victim is referred to as it, they don’t see it as a person  
> \- Changkyun is a little genderwild in this he uses any pronouns so I jump from she to their to his and all over the place but I think it’s still very readable

The house is set right in the middle of a flowery field, summer heat burning the green grass into yellowish brown straw come May. Cicadas sing and wind flows over chimes, a constant hum of noise in this place where the breeze never seems to stop.

White siding is cracking up around the nails, revealing dull, withering wood and the veranda creaks under every step as if it’s the last time someone will take one on it, because there’s no way the house will hold out much longer, too forgotten on the lonely field. A bit too far from town for ease of passing by.

Inside it’s not one bit quieter, the rhythmic jingling of the chimes crawling through the thin screen separating in- from outside. The door is left open almost all summer, except during storms but those come few and maybe that’s why the house is still standing.

There’s another rhythm travelling through the tight rooms, crackly and nostalgic, disappearing into white noise when a cloud travels a bit too heavily over the sky, so it seems. The songs are a mixture of old rock'n'roll and the newest end of the decade pop and Changkyun likes both sounds, couldn’t choose a favourite if their life depended on it.

Sweat sits heavy on her brow and on the sharp line of her upper lip, trickling through short pricks of beard hair that the single razor blade didn’t catch the morning prior. With no regard does he wipe it off, droplets flying to the side before they continue cutting their vegetables, gnawy old carrots.

Something is already cooking in a pan on the trusty gas stove, emitting a bittersweet scent, not of the good kind. But squishy, sweaty pieces of almost-rotten-but-not-quite carrot are added anyway, and Changkyun ignores the scent as if they can’t smell it one bit, swaying her hips from side to side in the beat of the next song picking up. There’s an instrument in there she never heard before and she doubts she’ll get enough of it anytime soon. Briefly Changkyun wonders if Minhyuk would like it too.

She wipes her hands on the new apron sitting around her waist, a pristine white, slowly made less pretty, less innocent. Drowning in their thoughts of music, domestic bliss of cooking for her loved, it seems that strange powers are at work again, because not a minute later the wood of the veranda creaks and the screen door opens and Minhyuk comes home.

Changkyun turns around in a swirl that makes the frills of his new apron sway and he prays his face is as pretty as when he revised it in the small, cracked mirror in their shower. Lips shaping a perfect circle, eyes wide and round and her brows furrowed in delight at the sight of the other.

Minhyuk looks divine, bruised legs coming out of wide jeans shorts and a knitted vest hanging open around his shoulders. His skin is tan from the sun, disrupted by red bug bites, both of insects, and from Changkyun a few nights before.

He’s far from the white of the apron. Far from innocent.

“Husband, you’re home,” Changkyun swoons, and he’s never seen a movie before, but he heard of Marilyn Monroe and he imagines her voice can’t possibly have been filled with more emotion than his.

Minhyuk's smile splits his face into half in ways that always send shivers down Changkyun's spine and she clutches a hand over her heart as if to keep it from jumping out of her chest when the other speaks up.

“Husband? That’s certainly new,” he says and almost sounds annoyed at it. Changkyun is delighted. “So can I call you wifey now? My perfect housewife waiting for me at home, cooking dinner?”

He spares one look at the black burnt mess in the pan, but his smile doesn’t falter. Changkyun thinks this is what birds must feel when they find out the sky is theirs.

“ _Min_ ,” they say, playing coy as their fingers come to pluck at Minhyuk's chest hair, peeking out from the vest. They read in a magazine that men love when their desired play coy. “I waited so long for you, I even dressed up, you see?”

Minhyuk takes Changkyun’s hand and twirls her around once, seeing the apron fly. “You got this without me? I’m almost sad... but I hope you didn’t overpay?”

There’s a glint in Minhyuk's eyes and even without words Changkyun knows their next sentence needs to be chosen carefully. “I didn’t waste any money, only a bit of physical labour...” Her hand is dropped and almost instinctively at this point, her bottom lip begins to wobble. Minhyuk turns soft.

“Was it awake when you got the apron?” He asks a tad gentler, but his eyes are still hard as stone, but a pretty one, like diamond. Changkyun only ever heard of diamonds but he thinks they can’t possibly be any prettier than Minhyuk.

“It was annoying, Min,” they explain with a pout, turning to stir their dinner. “I listened to it scream for hours, it gave me a migraine. So when afternoon rolled around and I wanted to dress up for you I went in to get its apron and guess what, it _kept screaming_. For its arm of all things... So I gave it to it.”

A stare prickles in Changkyun's neck and they know turning around now would only get them disappointment.

“You touched it? _Oh_ darling, sweet lovely wife, my star, you can’t _do_ that.” The words sting sickly sweet under Changkyun's skin, all his favourite names feeling like honey, but it would be easier if Minhyuk would wrap his fingers around her throat instead. Changkyun knows he did wrong, but he hates when Minhyuk knows too.

Carelessly dropping the spoon to the side, she turns around. “I’ll do what you do to cleanse myself, I promise I’ll be fine. I got it to shut up and my migraine is gone. I dressed up for you and I want a nice dinner. We’ll be fine.”

It seems to soothe Minhyuk at least a little more and he reaches out to take Changkyun’s hands in his calloused ones. “It hurts, my star. I don’t want you to hurt because you dirtied yourself. That’s my job, never yours.”

He gently brings Changkyun's fingers up to his lips and presses soft kisses to the very tips, each one springy and soft, unwashed after cutting potatoes and carrots and what else she could find around the house.

“I’d rather hurt with you than feel nothing at all.” Changkyun wishes the words were his own, but he heard them on the radio earlier that day, and he knows Minhyuk did too, in the car, but the other doesn’t show it, instead smiles another heart-breaking smile.

“What would I do without you?” He asks with a sigh, pressing his sweaty forehead into Changkyun’s palm for a few seconds and it’s almost like they’re not separated into two bodies like this. Almost as if they’re one. But he looks up and their mending is broken. “So you gave it its arm?”

Nodding, Changkyun smiles as she’s filled with pride. “Stuffed it into its nasty mouth to stop it from screaming and as you can hear, it worked.”

Rough fingertips gently trace through their hair, like they did for years whenever Changkyun does good. “My wife is so creative,” Minhyuk says and his chest is puffed up in pride. “That gives me an idea.” His eyes are distant for a second before they snap back to Changkyun. “So, when is dinner ready?”

Pensively, Changkyun looks at the sludgy mess on the stove. “ _Hmmm_ , in an hour? It still needs to simmer a little more...”

“Just enough time,” Minhyuk mumbles to himself, already turning towards the stairs but he looks back over his shoulder. “Turn the radio up, my star? I know you like when it’s loud.”

Changkyun does just that and she turns to the window while absentmindedly stirring their food, sometimes humming with familiar songs other times listening to the news, to local reports.

A woman has gone missing the day before, leaving behind a husband and two children. She worked as a housekeeper.

By the time the tenth song comes on – Changkyun is taking a sip of her homemade root beer lemonade – screams begin to overtone the jingling of wind chimes, the sound of cicadas and even the radio when it’s turned up to its loudest setting.

Changkyun drops the spoon in the pan and retreats to the living room where there’s at least a smidge more space, and she begins to move and twist with the noise, adapting with the rapid changes of screeching and groaning, of sobbing and wheeping that slowly fades out.

She imagines she’s on a stage, like the one Minhyuk and Changkyun played on as children, just bigger, and she imagines that the audience stands for her, cries at the sight of her body distorting in the most pleasurable movements. And she imagines Minhyuk sitting in front of her, the sole centre of her own attention.

With the abrupt stopping of the screaming, Changkyun freezes in their pose, long lithe arms stretched out above their head, unharmed fingers trembling with exhaustion.

She must’ve been so lost in it, that she overheard the stairs creaking and shoes tapping over wooden floor. The thing that wakes her up is the slow clapping of Minhyuk, standing in the doorway, admiring her.

Blood is trickling over his forehead, over the line of his upper lip and he wipes it away with the equally bloody back of his hand, not caring about droplets flying everywhere.

“The stove is still on?” He asks after Changkyun collapses onto the soft love chair, a hand dramatically draped over their face. She nods. “My star, your performance was outstanding. There are prizes waiting for you. Presents en masse.”

Exhaustion vanishes all at once and Changkyun jumps up in excitement. “Presents? Where?” They ask, almost jumping into Minhyuk's bloody arms, who only barely evades her, deliberately stepping to the side.

“They’re waiting outside, at the car, just for you.”

Giddily, Changkyun skips to the front door, turning to wait on Minhyuk who stays frozen in his spot. “You’re not coming?” She asks, and her voice is only a little broken.

“Give me a few minutes, my star, I’ll be there in no time.” Minhyuk’s voice sounds like he’s talking about the weather or telling Changkyun stories of movies he’s seen and new machines he heard of. Not close to the gravity the words hide.

Changkyun, rolls the fabric of the apron between his fingers. “Is it already time?” They ask shyly, not daring to look up.

“It’s been two summers, Changkyun.” Not darling, wife, love, _my star_. Just Changkyun. “Go get your presents, I’ll be right at your heels.”

There’s a thin cobble path leading through the grass and to the street where their old car is patiently waiting for a drive further than the next town. It’ll get it soon, very soon. On the hood of the rusty vehicle a chest of treasures is placed, filled with presents and they’re all for Changkyun.

The first is a string of feathers and dry flowers, braided together with stones and even some dry pieces of woods. It would look lovely hanging in front of the kitchen window, Changkyun thinks. She hopes they’ll have a place for it wherever the road takes them.

There’s also a pair of underwear, stiff and made of linen but her fingers almost shine through, and they blush just thinking about wearing it. About pulling their pants down to reveal themselves for Minhyuk, or just for themselves. Maybe they can get one of those full body mirrors Minhyuk told Changkyun about.

There’s a loud noise behind her.

The last present is small and fits perfectly into Changkyun’s palm, a small flute carved from bone. It’s smooth to the touch and looks almost like they imagine marble to look, or the walls of a magical cave at the shore. He hopes that’s where they’ll go, somewhere with salty air and endless waters.

Breathing in now, stinging smoke is sucked into her lungs as Changkyun blows into the flute, emitting a soft sound that reminds her of the instruments she heard just earlier that afternoon. Carefully, she puts all of her new belongings into the wooden crate and opens the trunk of the car to place it there safely.

When he turns around and walks back on the cobbled path, the house is throwing bright flames up to the sky and Minhyuk is standing right in front of it, engulfed my smoke.

It’ll only be a matter of minutes until the whole field will be burning, the dryness eagerly swallowed by fire. But still, Changkyun walks up to it and stands next to Minhyuk, already tugging at the strings of their apron to get it off.

He throws it into the flames, next to all other clothes he’s wearing, and it feels like his skin is being singed just being so close to the burning building. Minhyuk follows up until he too is stark naked, before looking at Changkyun.

“You should’ve kept the apron. You liked it.” He says and his gaze is softer than it has been all day, even with bright red reflecting in his eyes.

Changkyun shakes her head, suddenly feeling small and vulnerable. Almost too naked. “It didn’t belong to me,” they say easily, blinking at Minhyuk through long lashes.

The other nods before stepping forward, almost into the flames. “We have to cleanse us.” His voice sounds different with ash covering his lungs. Then he bends down and sticks his hands into the fire, charring the very top layer of his scarred skin off. He doesn’t even flinch.

With her heart beating into her chest, Changkyun steps as close as she trusts herself - not nearly as much as Minhyuk – and reluctantly pushes her fingers into the flames, crying out at the contact but not pulling back, not when Minhyuk is always so strong about this.

Arms wrap around them not a second later, pulling them backwards, “ _enough_ ,” whispered against her head.

Minhyuk’s hands are hot and sticky on Changkyun’s skin as he grabs what he can and turns her around until they’re more one body than two, sweat and rust and even blood gluing them together, making them a concoction of one another.

Like before, Minhyuk kisses every single one of Changkyun’s fingers, now bright red and jarred, forever marked just like his own. Each press of lips makes the other whimper, hiss, protest in pain, but they don’t pull their shaking hands back, only press the rest of their form into Minhyuk even more.

It feels like the hairs on their arms and legs are singed off by the time Minhyuk stops and takes Changkyun’s face in his sticky, bloody hands. “We should go to the ocean next,” he says and has to talk loudly, his voice barely able to overtone the inferno next to them. They have to go soon.

Grinning, Changkyun nods. “I was just thinking that,” she says and surges forward to press her salty lips against Minhyuk’s.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! Please leave kudos and comments, those really make my day :3 Tell me your favourite line, your thoughts, keysmash... I'll love it all!!
> 
> Twt/CC: Ninchannie


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